BeWere The Winchesters
by JeffersonStarship
Summary: What happens when the hunters become the hunted?


Author's Note - This one is set sometime after Season 2's Heart ... Hope you enjoy it...!  
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**_Be-Were The Winchesters  
_**

I watched Dean in disbelief as he wolfed down his seventh burger of the morning – amazing really, considering we'd only been sitting down at least fifteen minutes.

I know my brother is a bottomless pit for food at the best of times, but, really, I'd never seen him eat so much in so short a time before. In fact, thinking about it, Dean had gotten up pretty early today, way before his usual midday stirrings.

Really – Dean Winchester – up before 12? Unheard of. It's usually me up at the crack of dawn, not my brother.

Dean saw me watching him and he smiled at me, tomato sauce glistening around his mouth like blood.

"What is it, Sammy?" he asked. "You look like you don't know whether to laugh or cry! I told you that you could have your own burger! What's up, dude?"

"Dean, that's your seventh burger. In fifteen minutes!" I stressed in disbelief.

"Chill out, dude! Don't have a cow!" Dean said to me, with a typically cheeky grin.

"I think you just did! In fifteen minutes! What's up? You got worms or something?" I asked him, in sudden disgust. "Cos I'm not getting in that car with you if you have! I don't want them!"

"Worms, my ass!" Dean said. "I've never felt better in my life!"

This last as he typically ogled the waitress, as she wandered past. I just covered my eyes, sat back in my seat with a slump and groaned.

"Never mind, Dean. Let's just try and concentrate on finding this damn werewolf and then get the hell out of this place. I swear this town is giving me the creeps!" I said, with a complementary shudder to prove a point.

"Yahtzee! I suggest we start – "Dean cut his own sentence off, as he sniffed the waitress as she walked past again.

She didn't seem to notice, too preoccupied by serving others than to notice my brother's freaky behaviour.

"Dean! What are you doing? You just sniffed that waitress!" I said, with sudden horror and embarrassment.

"What?" Dean asked me, innocently, as though sniffing innocent passing waitresses was the most natural thing in the world to do. "She smelled nice, Sammy. Didn't you notice?"

I had actually noticed she had a nice perfumed scent about her, so I said to Dean – "I did notice she had a nice perfumed scent about her!"

Dean looked puzzled at that, as though I'd made a rather obscure comment, but said nothing to that. I didn't have time to question that look, for Dean finished his burger, then belched, with a balled fist to his chest, before rubbing his stomach in satisfaction.

"Yummy!" he said.

"No more burgers, Dean! You've had enough, already!" I said, wearily.

Just watching him eat had made me feel tired and full.

"I'm full, Sammy, don't worry, I'm full," Dean assured me, with a knowing wink at the passing waitress.

She smiled at him and Dean grinned back – his typical lady's man grin, I noticed.

I had to smile myself at my brother – really, the guy was incorrigible – before I said – "Right, Dean, time to get the upstairs brainage in gear. Let's go to the library!"

"Uh, did you just say brainage, Sammy?" Dean asked, hesitantly.

"I believe I just did, Dean, and it's Sam!" I told him, automatically.

"Brainage. Like it, Sammidge!" he said, with a cheeky grin up at me.

I had to laugh at my irrepressible brother. I had a feeling that Dean wouldn't forget my brainage comment for quite some time to come…Actually, he did forget my comment – no doubt aided and abetted by the dog outside the burger joint.

As soon as the dog clapped eyes on Dean, he went crazy. The dog, not Dean, and like totally ape-crap. Barking, growling, foaming at the mouth, the works. In fact, the dog did everything bar spew pea green soup over everyone.

"I swear that dog's possessed!" Dean commented, giving the mutt the devil horns of a true rocker as he passed. "I mean, what the hell did I do?"

I eyed him warily, but said nothing.

The library didn't help us out much, either. Dean, never one for research or sitting still in front of something as apparently offensive as a book, was even more fidgety than normal. He kept scratching at his collar like he had fleas or something. I even threatened him with a flea collar or something at one point, if he didn't stop.

Although that didn't stop him scratching entirely, he at least made the attempt to cut down a little bit, showing that Dean Winchester did in fact listen to his little brother sometimes. Though speaking with hindsight, I wondered if Dean suspected something was wrong with him before I did…Like I said before, the library was not much help at all, bar telling us pretty much what we knew already – people went missing, only for their bodies to be found the next day, hearts ripped out, and gone, presumably eaten, leading us to believe that it was a werewolf attacking people. The police, no doubt, thought it was some depraved lunatic on the loose, once again. As per usual. Then again, they weren't hunters like us. They didn't believe that things like vampires and werewolves even existed.I tried to ignore Dean as he sniffed a couple more people on the way out of the library, including a seventy-year-old librarian. Lucky for us we weren't questioned, or worse, arrested.

"It's a full moon tonight, Sammy!" Dean told me, later on, as he polished his gun back in our motel room.

"Yeah, I know," I said, staring listlessly, at the laptop screen, wondering how the hell, we were supposed to find a lead, when there apparently seemed to be none. "We've got to find that werewolf before they strike again. There seems to be no connection between any of the murders. They're male, female, different height, different colouring, all different. The whole thing seems directionless and indiscriminate!"

"Don't be rude!" was Dean's automatic response, which was admission enough that he didn't know what indiscriminate meant.

I hid a grin behind my hand, and then saw the connection.

"We need to stake out that club we visited last night," I suddenly announced to Dean.

"We do? Why?" Dean asked me, finally coming over to peer over my shoulder at the glowing laptop screen.

"All the victims work there, frequent there, or at least have some sort of connection with the place, like making deliveries. Seems like the owner's daughter is coming under fire as being the main suspect. Or at least they seem to think so on this site – whether they can be believed or not, because they do deal with a lot of conjecture. Did you know they reckon that Elvis is alive, running his own snowboarding shop in Canada?" I said, turning to Dean with one raised and disbelieving eyebrow.

Dean laughed at that, before he pointed to the screen, to the top of the page where the domain name – Cry Wolf – glowed an ominous red.

"With a name like Cry Wolf, can you really thrust their words as truth?" Dean asked, astutely.

"Probably not, but we've got to give them a shot, Dean. We haven't any other leads. It's like there's some major cover up about it or something. No one else seems to be wanting to make any sort of connection at all," I said, with a tired yawn. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to have some shut eye before we stake out that club. We are going to be up all night, after all!"

"Yeah, Sammy, you rest that brainage of yours," Dean said, proving that he hadn't forgotten my earlier comment after all.

I went to bed laughing, and it didn't seem long before Dean's bed creaked and his snores softly filled the room. I went to sleep soon after – a nice, dreamless sleep, for once…

I didn't stay asleep long. In fact, when I woke up, I was convinced that I was, in fact, still asleep, because what was happening seemed so bizarre, it couldn't really be happening to me.But then the pain convinced me that I really was awake, and not dreaming, at all. After all, even my worst nightmares never hurt that much.

I woke up to Dean gnawing on my arm – quite hard, too. I pushed him off me, eyes wide in horror, as he fell to the floor, wiping his mouth with an identical look of horror on his face.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, nursing my arm, where Dean had bitten down so hard, he'd actually drawn blood.

"I don't know. I was hungry. You smelled good. I couldn't seem to stop myself. I felt like I had to have a piece of you," Dean said, with some obvious embarrassment.

I stared at him in disbelief.

Then I said – "Dean, I think we need to talk!"

Dean gave me an uncertain look, then said – "I don't know, Dude. Depends on what about, because I've that talk with Dad years ago!"

I gave him a puzzled frown, then Dean said – "That's not what you meant, is it, Sam?"

"No," I said.

"Open mouth, insert foot," Dean muttered more to himself than to me.

"Indeed," I said, dryly.

Then I said – "Dean, you've been acting weird all day. You've been scratching incessantly, upsetting dogs, sniffing waitresses, and librarians, plus you've been hornier than usual – even for you – and you've been eating more than usual, again even for you! Now you've decided to use me as a midnight snack. Are you sure you're not a werewolf?"

Dean's mouth went slack with surprise, before he said – "WHAT!?"

"I've seen American Werewolf in London, you know. That's exactly what happened to David Naughton! Plus, more importantly, I'm a Winchester. I know these things," I told him, with a knowing nod at my older brother.

"But to turn into a werewolf, I'd need to be bitten, and I haven't even – " Dean cut his own sentence off, but I could hear his own mental – "Oh, crap!" – as though he'd actually spoken aloud.

"Dean, what have you done?" I asked, wearily, wondering just what the hell he'd done now.

At least Dean had the decency to look embarrassed.

"You remember I went home with a girl last night?" he asked, ears turning pink in embarrassment.

I snorted in a what's different kind of way, and Dean looked even more embarrassed.

"Well, she kind of – um – bit me – during, well, you know – during!" he said, turning away from my amused grin, cheeks blazing red with embarrassment. "I didn't think anything of it, at the time, just assumed the chick was kinky, but goddammit son of a bitch, she turned me into a werewolf!"

This last was said in an angry rush, and I was almost sure his eyes glowed red in the half – dark room.

"Whoah, Dean, calm down! I don't want you wolfing out on me!" I said, scooting up the bed as far as possible from my suddenly creepy brother – just in case.

"Relax, little brother, I'll be fine. Common werewolf lore tells us that you kill the wolf that made you, right?. So let's go to Kitty's house and waste the bitch," Dean said, looking far too happy about killing some girl than he ought to be.

Then again, I wasn't a werewolf, like Dean, was I?

I suddenly yelled when I realized something.

"Sammy! What is it?" Dean asked me, looking over at me with brotherly concern.

"You stupid BASTARD, Dean! You bit me! Now you've turned me into a werewolf! Right, that's it, I'm calling Bobby!" I said, stomping over to the phone, feeling angry with my irresponsible brother.

"Hey, I'm sorry, man, but I didn't know, did I? We werewolves, we get these urges, sometimes!" Dean told me, looking embarrassed again. "You just looked – tasty – is all!"

I started to laugh at that statement.

"I can't believe you just called me tasty!" I said, before saying – "Oh, hi, Bobby! No, I'm not calling you tasty. Well, you probably are, but you're not my type!" when the older hunter picked up the phone on his end, and caught the tail end of what I'd said.

Dean practically wet himself laughing when he heard that, even as he strolled over to the almost empty fridge.

I briefly told Bobby what had happened, punctuated by a few – "Dean, you're disgusting!" – when I caught sight of Dean eating raw steak in the corner.

Dean merely shrugged, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe for him, it wasn't right now. Then again, it wasn't for me, either, now, thanks to Dean nearly chewing my arm off. Anyway, after hearing our hairy tale, Bobby agreed to come out to us, but only if we promised not to bite him. I told him I had no desire to bite him, but I wasn't sure about Dean. Dean was debateable.

"You got that right," Bobby said, before telling me he'd be right over.

I tried to tell Dean what had happened with Bobby, only to be left feeling hungry at the sight of Dean chowing down on a raw steak. This time is was blood around Dean's mouth and not tomato ketchup…

In the end the desire for the steak became too much and I had to give in…

Maybe it was to Bobby's benefit that we'd both eaten already, for neither of us felt like chewing on the older hunter when he finally came in, later that night. He eyed us rather, dubiously, as though he was waiting for us to leap on him and chow down on his leg or something, but we didn't.

Dean rather obviously said – "Relax, dude, we're not gonna chew your face off, we're done for now!"

Bobby relaxed visibly, although you could tell by his eyes that he was always ready to shoot at one or both of us, if we got a bit too close for his comfort.

"Do you know who did this to you?" he got straight to the point by asking.

Sensible man, that Bobby Singer. Dean told him, at which Bobby nodded, looking grim, and I'm sure he muttered something about Dean having to learn to keep it in his trousers in future.

Although he'd only murmured the comment more to himself than to us, really, we still heard him, and Dean said – "I heard that!" – at which Bobby looked stunned.

He obviously hadn't realized just how good our hearing was, being werewolves. I'd also noticed something else about Bobby. I was trying not to sniff too obviously at the older hunter, because, even though we'd already eaten, Bobby still smelt like food to me.

Great. I just realized something. We're supposed to be hunters, protecting people from the monsters, only to become the monsters ourselves. I couldn't help but sort of notice that Bobby was looking at us differently now – more warily, than he had previously. I didn't like it. This had to stop. Now. I'm ending it.

Bobby, with that same wary look on his face, said – "I'd best come with you to waste the bitch. I don't want you wolfing out and attacking some poor bastard walking their dog. That'd be one for the journals! Anyway, get moving, Dean, Sam! We got work to do!"

And with that he left, leaving us no choice but to follow him.

Actually, it didn't take long to find the "bitch" in question, as she was in the club again, where Dean had met her the night before and conveniently was the owner's daughter after all. So the Cry Wolf website at least had it right on that score, if not the snowboarding Elvis tale. No doubt the amusingly named Kitty the werewolf was looking for another easy target to bite and infect, or possibly eat for dinner. Not that I'd ever say that out loud in front of Dean, mind you. I don't think he'd appreciate being called an easy target.

Dean was sent in protesting, by Bobby as bait, to bring out the girl in question, using all of Dean's considerable charm and charisma – Bobby's words, not mine.

As soon as Dean heard Bobby say that, Dean smiled and said – "You fancy me, don't you, Bobby? I can't blame you if you did!" – at which Bobby snorted and said – "You wish!" – before sending Dean in.

Five minutes later and Dean had come back out again, the girl in question intow, and Bobby muttered to me – "Gee, but that boy works quick!"

I bit back the obvious comment of – Of course, he's Dean Winchester, that's what Dean does – because that would be telling Bobby something that he already knew.

We followed Dean back to the werewolf's apartment, before bursting in, guns waving, not giving her a chance to speak before we shot her full of silver bullets, supplied courtesy of one Bobby Singer, as we'd run out ourselves. We watched her lifeless body until we were sure she simply wasn't faking when she didn't jump straight back up again like any bad horror movie villains always do.

"Feel any better?" Bobby asked us, without taking his eyes from the dead werewolf. "Still have cravings for chewing my face off or chewing on a steak, perhaps?"

Both Dean and I thought about it before we both said, in unison – "No!"

"Good! Then it worked – kill the werewolf that bit ya and the curse is lifted, cos if it hadn't worked out that way, I would have shot you, too!" Bobby said.

I don't think he was joking when he said that. Knowing Bobby, he meant it. He was a hunter through and through, after all, just like Dad was, just like we are.

"Good for us, we're human again, then, isn't it?" Dean said, flippantly, seemingly unfazed by Bobby's promise. "Is it awkward for me to say I could kill for a burger right now?"

Both Bobby and I looked at one another and Bobby was the first to shrug.

"Why not?" he said. "But I hope you're joking about the killing part!"

"Funny!" Dean said, before he led the way to the nearest burger joint.The kind-hearted Bobby had to grin at that, making me smile in turn.

For all his gruffness, Bobby really was a nice guy underneath.

The next morning, we left town, leaving Bobby to return to his place, while we went back on the road, again, heading for the next job. There was one last thing I had to do before we left town, while Dean was filling up his Impala at the gas station.

He didn't even know I'd gone until I returned, saying – "I got you a present!"

Dean looked up and over at me, expectantly, but his face fell when he saw what I actually held in one large hand.

"Dog food?" he asked, incredulously, as he took the can from me in disbelief.

"Just in case you get any more cravings in the night. I don't want to wake up with my arm half chewed off again." I said, barely managing to hold back a deeply dimpled grin at Dean's goggling green eyes.

"Sammy, I'm not eating dog food, okay? And I'm definitely not eating you!" he said, garnering a strange look from a passing pedestrian.

Dean smiled at the old lady, before turning back to me, and saying – "That was your fault! You know what that means, don't you?"

"Oh, no, Dean, not another prank war!" I groaned, holding a hand up to my eyes in feigned shock.

"You love them, Sammy!" Dean said, matter of factly. "Only this time, you really do need Nair in your shampoo to get rid of your excess werewolf hair!"

"Shut up or I'll make you wolf down that dog food for real," I said, with a laugh, as I ducked the carelessly flung can of dog food from Dean's hand.

"Get in the car, Sammy. I got to pay for the gas," Dean told me, but I saw that unmistakeable twinkle in his eye and knew this really was the beginning.

Even though we no longer were werewolves, I could see no end to the werewolf gags for quite some time to come.

I was right.When Dean got back into the Impala, he handed me a studded dog collar and whistled at me, as he dangled a chocolate scented bone toy in front of my nose. I groaned loudly, even as I tried to hide a smile, and prepared myself to be pranked within an inch of my life for the next few weeks.

Considering the alternative of only the previous night, the pranks I could actually handle…


End file.
